The Strange Birth of Emily
by Flying Pyro of Doom
Summary: Break decides one day during a meeting that he needs a friend, one who won't yell at him for not washing his uniform or try to steal his candy. Finding friends may be difficult, but creating them isn't hard at all! sort-of drabble.


Pandora meetings had never been able to hold Break's attention for more than a moment or two. There was just so much…talking. Now, talking wasn't a bad thing for him, he did it all the time, but they talked and managed to say absolutely nothing. His mind simply couldn't stay put through all of the mindless chatter. That was precisely why he usually kept a small book of puzzles in the massive amounts of pockets that lined his jacket. Unfortunately, Liam had recently forced him to clean his uniform, and so his pockets had yet to accumulate the odds and ends they usually contained.

One of the strange bits he had reacquired was a powder-blue handkerchief that he'd snuck away from the same worrywart who washed his uniform. He sat and half-listened to the speaking with the blue fabric in his hands. He'd been keeping his fingers occupied by folding the cloth into different shapes, but that didn't hold him for very long. He'd created a star, an elephant, a perfect sphere, a butterfly, and a strange little rabbit before he'd finally settled on something for the fabric to become. He created a little blue ghost. It was simple, but gave him a grand idea. He fished through his pockets, and found a length of string. He took that string, and used a bit of it to tie off the little ghosts head. Before he completely sealed off the head, he shoved a balled up bit of stuffing he'd snitched from one of the mutilated teddy bears the Nightray boy had left for someone else to collect, and gave the top a nice, round shape. He tied the knot around the little ghost's neck, and looked at his creation.

It needed to be a proper little ghost, like himself. A proper creature should have at least arms and hands, so that if the need arose, it can shake hands with the diplomats, so that was his next task.

He took that small scissors from a sewing kit he kept with him at all times, and cut straight up the ghost's tail, separating it into two parts. And stuffed a little area at the top before he tied it shut, and so the little creature had a body, and the beginnings of arms. He tied off the limbs, and another step was completed.

The little limbs were perfect, but the ends were open and scraggily, which just wouldn't do. He took his little scrap of string, and tied half around one limb's end. That created a satisfactory little appendage, and so he did the same to the other, and the little ghost's body was almost finished.

He searched around once again in his pocket, and found some yellow yarn left over from a knitting project. The reminded him that most proper members of society had hair, and so that was what it would become for his ghost. He went to work creating a lovely head of hair for his friend. His patience wouldn't allow much styling, so the hair was left in the long strands that he'd found. He gathered the strands, and quickly attached it with a simple stitch. Some of the golden locks stood up at the top, but he didn't mind. Ghost would be an eccentric child that was all it meant.

It was then that his Ghost was declared a lady, and a proper little lady needed to be clothed to blend in with normal society. He dug through his pockets once again, but found nothing that could possibly work as a dress. All that he had left was a bit of pink ribbon, a pack of crackers, his sewing kit, and a handful of other assorted oddities.

Those would never do, and so he chose a slightly less socially acceptable way of finding a garment for the little dear. He glanced around and noticed, in a nearby member's pocket, a pink handkerchief. He swept the square of pastel fabric from its hiding spot, and snipped a circular hole in the center. He slipped it over the little ghost's head, and pulled her hair through the little hole, letting it fall down her back.

She was nearly perfect, but still some things were missing. In a search for inspiration, he thought about his little mistress. His ghost had a dress, like her, properly styled hair, little limbs, and most everything that little Sharon had. He thought a little harder, and found something that one had, and the other didn't. Sharon was never seen without some sort of decoration in her hair. The ghost's hair was completely devoid of any trimmings, which simply wouldn't do. His hand retreated back into the nearly empty pocket, and found again the end of ribbon. It was a few shades darker then the dress, but it would have to do. He tied it in a neat little bow around his creation's bundle of hair.

It was then that a hand patted his shoulder. Break tensed, and turned. It was none other than Liam, who looked exasperated beyond words. He informed Xerxes that the meeting had ended long ago, and he should take the whatever-it-was-he-was-doing and leave. He nodded, and scuttled off to finish his little dear.

Once he'd arrived at his room, he discovered an old bottle of white paint, and a petite brush. He seated his little dear on a table, and sat himself on the matching chair. Looking at his little ghost, he tried his very best to picture a suitable face for her.

The eyes were easy; two simple, white ovals about a thumb's width apart. The same couldn't be said for the mouth. He let his mind picture various expressions, from neutral to content to angry to sad, before he finally made a decision. If she was to be his companion, she needed to always laugh at his antics, and generally keep his spirits up, just as any ghost friend should. Because of that, he chose a long, thin smile that mirrored his own. With a few sloppy brush strokes, she was finished.

Almost.

He realized as he admired the little creature that she still lacked one thing that every lady needs. She was still nameless. Every well-adjusted member of society had one, some had many, and so she would be no different. He looked up from his newly made accomplice, and skimmed over the shelves of stories and poetry he kept, in search of inspiration. The first thing that caught his eye was a certain dark green volume near the middle of the rightmost shelf. He took several long steps, and found that it was a collection of poems by Emily Dickinson.

"Emily."

He responded to his own words with a high, crackly laugh that he'd thrown from his upturned lips to her painted ones. She was finished, his little Emily. Without a second thought, he perched the creature on his shoulder, and drew another grating cackle from his darling's lips. She was exactly what he needed, and he wouldn't change a single thing about her for the world.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Notes:<span>

-Long AN today, sorry.

-This was actually inspired by my mother, who, while looking at a picture of break and Emily, told me "It looks like he didn't have any friends, so he made one." I liked it.

-also partially inspired by my own process of Emily making, from when I was getting ready to cosplay Break.

Serious Notes:

Really, this was just another piece of stress relief. If you'd have lived my life last week, you'd understand. I didn't get a moment for myself because I was crewing a show, which I enjoyed, but that didn't stop me from wanting to stab someone from the overwhelming stuff that always comes from working in the theatre. I sent a text out to one of my friends on closing night, she was involved with the show too, and it went something like this.

I'm exhausted, ecstatic, sad, happy, amazed, content, and tired off it all. That's the only way to feel on closing night.

All of those emotions stick with me until I do something to help me get rid of them, so here this is. Nothing big, just a bit of emotional release. It sucks. I'm sorry.

I'm actually feeling really self conscious about my writing right now, so any reviewers who'd like to give me their honest opinion, please, do. I really need to know what I do right and wrong, and what I can do to fix it.

Love, the universe, and everything,

~Ali.


End file.
